


fanning a fire

by entrechat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alcohol, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Bondage, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Food is a love language, M/M, MLM WLW solidarity, Mugging as a plot device, Nudes, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shibari, Smut, Truth or Dare, Wrong number, akaashi hates his friends, alt title: the thing about accidents, and a plot device, gratuitous use of sun imagery, just kidding, mild d/s dynamics, only mentioned - Freeform, the intimacy of teaching someone how to tie you up, the mugging isn't described, this is all oikawa's fault, what if thats all i tagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrechat/pseuds/entrechat
Summary: Tooru is cooing and muttering praises about how good Keiji looks that makes his cheeks light up crimson. “Oh she texted back, she sa-“ Tooru cuts himself off and his eyes widen slightly. He throws the phone back to Keiji, who in his current state fumbles for it before catching.“What? Why did you…” Keiji slowly trails off when he looks down at his phone. “Fuck.”“What’s the matter?” Yukie questions, rubbing at her eye with the back of her hand.“Fuck!” Keiji repeats, this time louder and with wider eyes. “I sent it to the wrong number. I put in Endo-san’s number wrong and now some random person has this picture.” Keiji feels way more sober than he actually is as he looks at the texts that were sent in response.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 17
Kudos: 351





	fanning a fire

**Author's Note:**

> Alright I finally uploaded a smut here we go. Obviously mind the tags before getting into this. There is a mugging mentioned but it's literally ONLY a mention, there is no description of the event at all it is simply to have some plot.
> 
> Thank you as always to Dylan, my beta. He does this thing on his fics called 'Kameos' and its a comment I made on his fic that he finds funny or something and I do the same but he gave me a cute name now!
> 
> Dyl-annotation: scratches head ur gonna hafta do most of the work yourself later babe
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day and are appreciated so much. Happy Reading!

When Keiji agreed to spend his Saturday night drinking with Tooru, Yukie, and Hajime at Tooru’s apartment instead of working on his manuscript and filling in all his contacts on his new phone, he hadn’t realized how drunk he would get. Keiji wasn’t really a drinker. He enjoyed a few glasses of wine or a cocktail when he went out to a bar. The last time he had gotten blackout drunk was in his last year of college after all his finals were over and he had been taken to a party by his roommate. He was celebrating his upcoming graduation back then. Now, however, he had no real excuse. Sure, the idea probably stemmed to distract Keiji from the mugging he was a victim of at the beginning of the week, but Keiji wasn’t really upset nor shaken by it. In fact, he probably would’ve forgotten about it if he didn’t have to get a new phone with a new number. A new phone which he should be updating with numbers instead of sitting around getting hammered.

He’d blame Tooru for his inebriation tomorrow.

Keiji _could_ admit that he did like the warmth coursing through his extremities and how he felt a little bit lighter and more inclined to giggling. He also could admit that being surrounded by the three people he considers dearest to him made him feel overwhelmingly content. So, it wasn’t all bad.

“Truth,” Yukie proclaims to the group, cheeks tinted with a pleasant blush the color of bubblegum.

They had enacted a game of Truth or Dare when the four of them had become just tipsy enough to indulge in childish activities. It was mostly light hearted, no difficult soul-searching truths or life-altering dares. Simply enough to get them all laughing until their sides hurt.

“If you had to pick one of us to kiss, who would it be?” Hajime asks with a quirked brow.

“God, can't I just say all of you and spare your feelings?” Yukie bites back, falling down to lay across the entire couch with dramatic fervor. Keiji almost had to make a dive for her beer bottle.

“I think that’s against the rules, Yukie-chan.”

Yukie groans in Hajime’s direction, before surveying the three men around her. She hums in thought for a moment before clicking her tongue. “I guess I would say Keiji-kun. He _is_ the prettiest.”

Tooru lets out an offended scoff but Hajime pulls the brunet into his lap, coaxing him to calm down with a kiss to his temple. Tooru settles immediately after that, slumping into Hajime’s chest and sipping on his beer like an infant with a milk bottle. Keiji smiles in delight at Yukie, blowing her a small kiss and pulling his knees up to his chest, resting in his little corner of the couch.

“Alright, Tooru-chan. Truth or dare?” Yukie asks, turning her head to look at Tooru and Hajime where they’re nestled together on an armchair situated diagonally from the couch she’s laying on.

Tooru looks up with a contemplative grin, “Dare.” Yukie opens her mouth but Tooru adds, “but only if I don’t have to leave Iwa-chan’s lap.”

Yukie pauses then nods, reaching towards the table to grab a can of spiked lemonade. She tosses it to Tooru who makes no effort to catch, saved only by Hajime’s quick reflexes. “Chug,” is all she says.

Keiji lets out an involuntary giggle at the stricken look on Tooru’s face, covering his mouth to stifle it as best he can. Yukie snorts at that and Hajime almost chokes on his sip of beer. The chain reaction ends with Tooru whining loudly at how mean everyone is before popping open the can with a _click_ and the familiar _hiss_ of any carbonated drink. He takes a few deep breaths, dropping his empty beer bottle on the floor, then lifts the can to his lips and starts drinking. It takes no longer than ten seconds before he’s crushing the empty can in his fist. Tooru hiccups slightly, a small burp escaping his mouth before he mutters an, “Excuse me.”

Keiji, Hajime, and Yukie all cheer in delight at the display, eventually devolving into peals of laughter at their behavior. Tooru joins in on the laughter, hiccuping throughout which only spurs them on. Keiji has to push his glasses up to wipe tears at some point and opts to push them onto his head because of how often they kept fogging up from the warmth in the room and from his face. He only needs them for reading anyways. He flutters his eyes in order to adjust his vision without the clarification of his lenses, grin tipped onto his mouth with no sign of leaving anytime soon. He finishes the beer in his hand and sets the empty bottle down, a flush spreading down his neck from the alcohol.

“Okay, my turn now!” Tooru cheers, occupying his hands by playing with Hajime’s fingers. “Aka-chan, truth or dare?”

Keiji thinks for a moment, resting his chin on the top of his knees and closing his eyes. He recognizes the fact that he’d been picking truth for most of the game, except for the one dare he chose the very first round. “Dare, I suppose,” he finally decides on, opening his eyes back up to a devilish grin on Tooru’s face. He instantly regrets it when he forgets how mischievous Tooru can get. Especially when under the influence.

“Go easy on him, Tooru,” Hajime mumbles into the hair at the top of his head, looking about two minutes away from falling asleep.

“I’m always easy on Kaashi-kun. Let me think, everyone quiet.”

They oblige, the room falling into a comfortable silence. Keiji’s nerves are only diluted by his lack of sobriety and he’s thankful that he isn’t on the verge of a full meltdown over what Tooru might come up with.

“Didn’t you get a new phone? Nobody has your new number saved yet, except for us and your family, right?” Tooru asks, gaze fixed pointedly on Keiji. Keiji nods in affirmation, slowly becoming aware of where this is going. “Alright, then send one of your nudes to your boss.”

Keiji’s lips part slightly in surprise, and he unfurls himself from his ball to lean forward and squint at Tooru. “That’s unbelievably stupid. No.”

“Come _on_ , Aka-chan. She won’t even know it’s you. Live a little.”

“He does have a point, Keiji-kun.”

Keiji glances between Tooru and Yukie, his grin pulling into a frown for the first time in the night. Hajime lightly clears his throat, blinking like he’s just woken up and shrugs. Keiji can’t believe what he hears.

“There’s no harm, Akaashi. Plus you can always crop your face out.”

Keiji sighs loudly, letting his head drop to hit the back of the couch. He sits on the thoughts for a bit longer, before stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone with an exasperated expression. “Well, if Iwaizumi-san is agreeing then who am I to decline. Live a little, right?”

Tooru smiles brightly at Keiji who immediately rolls his eyes at the antics. Yukie scrambles to sit back up and drapes her body over Keiji’s shoulder to stare at his phone. Keiji opens up a locked folder on his camera roll and slowly starts scrolling through the lewd pictures he’s taken of himself. He clicks on one, a simple image of Keiji draped over the blue sheets of his bed, boxers riding up his thighs to expose the smooth expanse of pale skin.

“Don’t send one of the tame ones Keiji-kun, make it interesting,” Yukie slurs, leaning forward to squint at Keiji’s phone screen.

“How does she know you have interesting ones?” Tooru suddenly sits upright, almost knocking his head into Hajime’s chin.

“He shows me all of them,” Yukie answers with a flippant wave of her hand.

“Aka-chan,” Tooru whines loudly, pouting in a way that looks like he’s on the verge of a tantrum until Hajime pinches his side to shut him up. “Why don’t you show me? I thought we were best friends.”

“Because Yukie is a lesbian so she can view them from an unbiased standpoint.” Keiji looks up from his scrolling and interrupts Tooru when his mouth opens to respond, “and you have a boyfriend who I think would be upset to know you’re looking at another man’s naked body.”

Tooru slouches back down after that and Hajime offers Keiji a thankful smile. Keiji’s eyes slowly return back to the phone screen and he has to put his glasses back on to make sure he’s properly surveying his options. After a minute he clicks on one and turns his head slightly towards Yukie, who makes a sound of affirmation. He then clicks the text option and types in his employer’s number at the top of the screen. He clicks send with no accompanying text, just the photo and gulps as the message delivers.

The picture is, as Yukie put it, interesting. Keiji is sitting on his bed, bare legs straddling a dark blue pillow. His skin contrasts it perfectly, his milky complexion standing out against the stark color between them. He isn’t completely naked though. His cock is artfully wrapped in the lace fabric of a thong. The white triangle does nothing to hide how painfully hard he is in the photo. It doesn’t end there however. Red rope is tied across his chest, wrapping around his neck and binding his arms behind his back. The rope makes a gorgeous criss cross pattern, digging into his skin just enough to be pleasurable. His face is cropped out of the photo, like Hajime suggested, but his head is thrown back in a way where the photo shows both the stretch of his neck and the mess of his inky black hair peeking out at the top of the frame. Drool is just barely visible, a line of it running down his neck. The shibari is about as interesting as Keiji can get without sending a picture of him in the act of fingering himself or using some toy. He isn’t ready to send something _that_ risqué to someone it isn’t meant for. Keiji has to admit it’s one of his favorites, from an aesthetic standpoint. The colors and the design the rope makes is pleasing to the eye.

“Did it,” Keiji confirms, shaking his phone in his hand for emphasis. Tooru grins like a child left in a candy store.

“Can we see what you sent?” Tooru pleads, fluttering his eyes in an attempt to look innocent. Hajime just chuckles lightly and shrugs in Keiji’s direction. Keiji decides there’s nothing wrong with it and tosses his phone their way. This time Tooru _does_ catch it. The couple stares at the picture and Hajime gives a thumbs up, which makes Keiji blush. Tooru is cooing and muttering praises about how good Keiji looks that makes his cheeks light up crimson. “Oh she texted back, she sa-“ Tooru cuts himself off and his eyes widen slightly. He throws the phone back to Keiji, who in his current state fumbles for it before catching.

“What? Why did you…” Keiji slowly trails off when he looks down at his phone. “Fuck.”

“What’s the matter?” Yukie questions, rubbing at her eye with the back of her hand.

“Fuck!” Keiji repeats, this time louder and with wider eyes. “I sent it to the wrong number. I put in Endo-san’s number wrong and now some random person has this picture.” Keiji feels way more sober than he actually is as he looks at the texts that were sent in response.
    
    
     _‘Wow.’_
    _‘Was that meant for me?’_
    _‘Who is this?’_
    _'Man, this is pretty hot.’_

“What do I do?” Keiji hisses, throwing his phone directly into Tooru’s chest. “This is your fault, fix it.” Keiji pulls his glasses off of his face, dropping them onto the coffee table and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes to force away the embarrassment. He isn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with this so he leans forward again to snatch another beer from the table and immediately starts gulping down the bitter liquid.

“Calm down, Aka-chan. I got this under control.” Keiji sneers in Tooru’s general direction and he busies himself with typing. “I’ll just tell them it was a dare and you sent it to the wrong number. All is well.” Keiji watches him like a hawk, gaze locked onto his fingers as they type, hit send, and repeat twice more. Keiji stands to start pacing, tugging on his own fingers out of habit. “Look, they said they completely understand! Even said they’ll send one back to make it less awkward.”

Keiji’s hand snaps up with a bewildered expression. He marches forward and tugs his phone from Tooru’s loose grip. Tooru looks like he still hasn’t registered what just came out of his mouth. Hajime smacks him lightly on the arm and Keiji tunes out the quiet bickering between the couple to look down at his phone in anticipation. He’s about to send a text telling the mystery person that they shouldn’t do that, because there’s no obligation at all when his phone dings and a picture pops up on his screen. Keiji’s breath hitches slightly. He now has a body to associate with this number, and a nice one at that. The photo is taken in a mirror, head just barely out of frame, but the strong set jaw is still visible. The man’s entire body is just a landscape of impossibly strong muscle. From his broad shoulders and biceps to his impeccable abs and thick thighs. Keiji entertains the idea of running his tongue along every line of muscle he has to offer. The man is wearing a simple pair of white briefs, which offset his tan skin in a way that makes Keiji hungry. Not to mention the dewy look of his skin from sweat like he had just finished working out. The visible tent in the white fabric is another thing entirely and Keiji’s brain almost short circuits.

“Fuck, he’s hot,” falls out of Keiji’s mouth before he can stop it.

Tooru and Yukie both scramble out of their seats, descending on Keiji like a pair of vultures who have been far too hungry for too long. Tooru isn’t even apologetic as he ravages the picture, a calculating look as he does so. Yukie pats Keiji on the shoulder and doesn’t even bother to hide her tipsy smirk, only able to let out a noise of acceptance. Tooru raises a brow, slowly in his appraisal, before smiling widely, eyes crinkling shut.

“What are you two doing?” Hajime murmurs, evidently happy to settle back in his chair and close his eyes.

“Keiji-kun’s right, even if I don’t like men, I can appreciate this guy’s physique,” Yukie comments, words barely intelligible.

“See, everything worked out!” Tooru cheers, walking around the coffee table with an arm raised in a princess wave. Keiji scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I just ask out this complete and total stranger, whose name I don’t know and face I’ve never seen, and suddenly everything is peachy?”

“Exactly,” Tooru smiles, hands on his hips like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Keiji pinches the bridge of his nose, tilting his head back in the way he does when he feels a chronic nosebleed coming on. He hisses involuntarily when his phone is snatched out of his hand and he turns to see Yukie holding it protectively and backing away.

“If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you.”

“Shirofuku-san, please give me my phone back.”

“Nuh-uh. Not unless you promise to text sexy muscles-san.”

“I don’t understand why I should.”

“Because you’ve been single for far too long and this is obviously a sign from above!” That one was Tooru, draping himself over Keiji’s shoulders from behind.

“Oikawa-san, you’re being dramatic.”

“He’s always dramatic, but just this once I think you should listen to him,” Hajime intervenes, eyes still closed.

“Three,” Yukie starts, waving the phone in her hand. “Two,” she starts typing and Keiji grimaces. “O-“

“Okay, I’ll do it. Fine, you win.” Keiji holds out his hand, which Yukie happily deposits his phone into. Yukie peels Tooru off his shoulders and pushes him back into Hajime’s waiting arms. She then drapes herself back onto the couch, legs curled up to leave enough space for Keiji to sit. He settles into the seat and sighs, running a hand over his face and taking a slow breath. He types and retypes a few messages.
    
    
     _ ~~‘Hello’~~ _
    ~~_‘Yours was also pretty hot’_ ~~
    ~~_‘I want you to fuck me until I cry and only know your name’_ ~~
    ~~~~_‘I’m Akaashi Keiji.’_

He settles on simplicity, and hits send before he can go back on his word. He locks his phone and hides his face in his hands, feeling the burn of his cherry-red blush. Keiji really can’t believe he’s done something so out of character. He places the blame with the excessive amount of alcohol running through his veins and his so-called friends.

His phone pings, indicating a new message and his chest tightens around his heart, threatening to squeeze it to a pulp. He hesitantly opens the message, ignoring the dissecting stares from Tooru and Yukie. He’s thankful Hajime is half asleep and barely paying attention.
    
    
     _‘Bokuto Koutarou.’_
    _‘Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?’_
    _‘Not to be forward or anything but I feel like we’re past the awkward stage now.’_
    

Keiji immediately breathes out, laughter bubbling in his chest. He settles more comfortably in his seat and looks up from his phone. “Well his name is Bokuto, and he did all the work for me.”

“Does that mean he asked you out? You better say yes, Aka-chan,” Tooru commands.

“Well, obviously. I’ve gone this far,” Keiji reprimands, rolling his eyes.
    
    
     _‘We’re on the same page.’_
    _‘I would love to go out.’_
    _‘I can make us dinner at my apartment on Friday.’_
    

The confirmation text comes in before an entire minute even passes and Keiji can’t help the boozy giggle he lets out. He isn’t exactly sure if this endeavor will end in anything more than sex in Keiji’s apartment before they never speak to each other again, but even that would be good enough for his fantasies. It doesn’t change the fact that there’s butterflies blooming in his stomach and a less embarrassed, more excited blush on the apples of his cheeks.

________

The week passes with: Keiji finishing his manuscript, not having to face his boss knowing she saw an erotic photo of him, anticipation for a dinner date, and a certain Bokuto Koutarou flooding his messages. His apprehension slowly fades as he gets to know Koutarou; learning his gorgeous body comes from playing volleyball and every part of his life that makes the man tick. They also exchanged photos a few more times, now including their faces, which Keiji shamelessly got off to. So come Friday evening, Keiji systematically goes through his apartment to clean it, pulls together ingredients to make chicken yakitori, dons an elegant outfit consisting of grey slacks and a dark purple sweater, and is left to stare at his bed. His bed where black ropes, lube, and condoms are laid out. He chews on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers out as he debates whether he should put them away. He’s about to make the move to swipe everything off the bed with the buzzer to his apartment sounds through the room.

Swallowing back his pride, Keiji gives himself a once in the mirror, then floats through his home to the front door. Upon opening the door Keiji is suddenly very relieved he opted to wear contacts instead of glasses, because he’s certain they would’ve fogged up by now. Seeing a photo of Koutarou had made Keiji flustered enough, seeing the man _in person_ was a whole new ball game.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji finally greets after realizing he may have been staring.

“Hey hey, Akaashi,” Koutarou grins widely, effectively knocking the wind out of Keiji. He steps in, removing his shoes in the genkan while Keiji closes the door. “Pardon the intrusion,” he says, grin evident in his voice.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll open some wine,” Keiji gestures towards the set dining table, and excuses himself to the kitchen, taking his moment of solitude to reign in his thoughts and feelings. Keiji has to grip the edge of the counter top and count backwards from ten before he’s certain his cheeks aren’t flaring up. He returns to the dining table with an open bottle of red and pours two glasses with seasoned practice.

“Your place is pretty nice, ‘Kaashi. You said you’re a writer?” Koutarou asks as he follows Keiji’s movements until they’re sitting opposite each other at the table. He reaches out to grab the wine offered and takes a slow sip, humming at the sharp taste.

Keiji nods absentmindedly until he catches himself watching the bob of Koutarou’s Adam’s apple. “Yes, I’m mostly a novel writer but sometimes I try my hand at poetry.”

Koutarou’s features settle into a much more relaxed smile, like he isn’t even trying to grin. His expression just naturally pulls up, his lips curving serenely and his eyes brighter than anything Keiji has ever seen before. And when Koutarou settles his cheek into the palm of his hand, where he’s propped his elbow up on the table, Keiji lets himself indulge in raking his eyes over every part of Koutarou. The clean line of his jaw, the color of his lips and the way they’re already turning red towards the seam from the wine. The slight crookedness to his nose, how his eyes seem to hold all the rays of the sun and have this concentrated intensity. Intensity that makes Keiji bristle when he realizes he’s been caught staring. He gulps and pulls his gaze away, taking his own sip of wine. He swallows down harshly and is thankful for the courage wine brings him, and if it’s already his second glass of the day nothing in his head says anything about it.

Pushing past his initial embarrassment, Keiji opts to exchange a few more pleasantries before explaining what he made. They both dip their head to mutter a, “Thank you for the food,” in unison.

As soon as food hits mouth Koutarou makes a noise of content, closing his eyes to savor the taste while Keiji watches in anticipation, taking nervous bites of his chicken. When Koutarou swallows Keiji sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “This is real good. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Keiji exhales, unaware that his breath had been caught in his chest, and smiles genuinely and unafraid. “It’s not really all that hard, Bokuto-san. My mother always had me help in the kitchen growing up, so I suppose I might’ve always had a knack for it.”

They eat in relative silence, Keiji relaxing into the comfort of it. He hadn’t realized how nervous he had been until he let his shoulders lose their tension. There was just something about the enigma sitting across from him. A man that could rival celestial bodies in both beauty and fire. Keiji had never been so thoroughly entranced before. The melted gold of his eyes enraptured him in ways that he simply succumbed to. The tan lines of his collarbones peeking out from his button up begged to be mottled and Keiji so badly wanted to indulge. His eyes settled back onto Koutarou’s face, setting his fork down and cocking his head.

“Bokuto-san, you have sauce on your face,” Keiji points out behind a giggle.

Koutarou looks up at him and his smile softens, like the mere appearance of Keiji laughing has run warm hands across aching muscles. “I do?” He questions, reaching up to wipe at his face, completely missing the spot.

“Here, let me.” Keiji leans forward across the table and swipes his thumb across the corner of Koutarou’s mouth to gather up the sauce. He pauses and licks his own lips, finger lingering in front of Koutarou’s mouth. Something like a glimmer flares in Koutarou’s eyes and he wraps his lips around Keiji’s thumb, pressing his tongue against the pad of it before pulling his mouth off, now clean of the sauce that resided there. Keiji’s breath hitches.

Then in a burst of confidence and before he can think twice, Keiji grips the front of Koutarou’s shirt and pulls until they’re kissing over the table. Koutarou makes a noise of surprise from the action but presses in all the same. Koutarou has to place a palm flat against the table to steady himself but the other comes up to hold Keiji’s face and suddenly Keiji is melted. He feels like those pools of molten sunlight have wrapped him up and the heat is overwhelming. He pulls back for a moment, only to step away from the table and tug Koutarou with him. Koutarou follows with ease, hands finding Keiji’s hips to push his sweater over his head. As soon as the offending article is out of the way their lips find each other again. Each searing contact is another wash of warmth from Koutarou and it feels like he’s touching a Sun God. Keiji licks into Koutarou’s mouth without hesitance, walking backwards to his bedroom. His back collides with the door and his fingers deftly move down Koutarou’s chest to unbutton his shirt. Keiji moans when he feels a leg press up against his quickly hardening erection. He pushes Koutarou’s shirt off his shoulders and breaks the kiss to just stare. He runs his hands over broad shoulders and down the planes of his chest, biting on his bottom lip at the sight. He breathes out harshly when Koutarou ducks forward to start kissing down his neck. He takes the opportunity to reach behind him until his hand wraps around the doorknob. He twists and pushes the door open, pulling Koutarou in with him.

It’s when he’s pulling at the button and tugging down the zipper of Koutarou’s pants that his hands still and he remembers the ropes on his bed.

Keiji’s legs hit the edge of his bed and they buckle until he’s laying down and he turns his head. Right there, lines of woven onyx staring him in the eyes. Keiji audibly gulps and when he looks back at Koutarou climbing on top of him his eyes are blown open in panic and concern. Koutarou pauses, hovering over Keiji and cocking his head in a way that makes him look incredibly comforting.

“Everything alright, ‘Kaashi?” He questions. “We can stop if you don’t want to.”

“No!’ Keiji bellows, more frantic than he intended to be. “No, I don’t want to stop. I very much want to keep going. I just,” he trails off, gaze falling to the ropes beside him.

Koutarou follows his eyes and he finally notices the braided black. “Oh,” he says dumbly.

Keiji slowly moves to sit up, looking anywhere but at Koutarou. “I just.. they’re something.. I thought-”

“I don’t mind. They _were_ in that first photo you sent me.”

Keiji finally looks up, expression painted skeptically. Koutarou nods, standing to push his pants off and Keiji licks his lips again, zeroing in on the very clear indication that Koutarou is serious. Then something in Keiji clicks into place and there’s a very self assured smile pulling on his mouth.
    
    
     _Need._
    _Want._
    _Mine._
    

Keiji pushes his slacks down his legs and kicks them away, revealing the lingerie — not unlike the ones in the photos he’d sent — covering his cock, and dropping onto the floor. He proceeds to crawl on his hands and knees towards Koutarou, watching him intently. He reaches out and grips Koutarou’s thighs, groaning at how strong they feel and the way they flex under Keiji’s touch. He lifts his head and his teeth come around the waistband of boxers and Keiji tugs them down swiftly. Koutarou swallows and his cock presents itself to Keiji, hard and already leaking. Keiji wraps a hand around it, smirking up at Koutarou and pulling his fist up until his thumb slides over the slit and Koutarou shivers at the touch.

“You seem excited, Koutarou,” Keiji purrs, dragging his nails across the front of Koutarou’s thigh, watching as the muscles shift against his fingers. Koutarou moans off that alone, mouth falling obscenely open.

Keiji finally gratifies him, taking Koutarou into his mouth. Keiji refuses to break eye contact, pupils blown wide in lust, deep midnight irises disappearing behind black. He swallows softly around Koutarou’s cock, letting his mouth adjust to the intrusion. The contraction in his throat forces another moan out of Koutarou and his head tips back until it connects with the wall behind him. His hand fists into Keiji’s hair and his chest rises with heavy breaths. “Fuck, ‘Kaashi. Are you just amazing at everything?”

Keiji hums around Koutarou’s cock, head falling forward as he lets more of the length disappear into his mouth until he comfortably reaches the base. The vibration from the sound makes Koutarou shiver again, and he minutely bucks into Keiji’s throat. That’s enough of a cue for Keiji to start bobbing his head. His speed is set, head moving at a practiced pace, tongue swiping around the head and then flattening out along the base. He revels in the expletives streaming out of Koutarou’s mouth, his grip tightening against Keiji’s hair. When Keiji lifts his head off with a delightful _pop_ Koutarou whines. Actually whines.

“Don’t you want to _fuck_ me, Koutarou?” Keiji asks around a soft huff of air that could be interpreted as a laugh.

“Shit,” Koutarou hisses, looking down at Keiji.

Keiji stands up to meet Koutarou face to face, capturing his lips in a chaste kiss, barely dragging his tongue along the back of Koutarou’s teeth before he pulls away, taking Koutarou by the arms and pulling him towards the bed. He pushes him into sitting on the edge, standing in front of him to push down his panties. He allows Koutarou the moment to take in his whole body, and Keiji almost flushes under the intensity. He pushes forward, past the impending gaze, and settles onto Koutarou’s lap. He slings his arms over Koutarou’s shoulder and stretches his neck back as Koutarou starts sucking against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His fingers work into the hair at the nap of Koutarou’s neck, breaking some of the gel holding it there and pressing into him so their cocks slide together. The groan that Koutarou’s mouth leaves on Keiji’s skin is sinful.

“Koutarou,” Keiji sighs while Koutarou continues to leave marks across Keiji’s neck and chest. “Tell me how much you want me, Koutarou.”

“Want you so bad.”

“Say my name when you tell me,” Keiji whispers harshly, nails dragging up Koutarou’s back.

“I want you, Akaashi.”

“My _name._ ”

“Keiji.”

“What do you want?”

“Wanna fuck you, Keiji.”

Keiji breathes out a moan, dragging their slick cocks together again and when his vision darkens on the edges he lifts off of Koutarou’s lap, crawling across his bed and sitting up against the headboard. He grabs the bottle of lube and uncaps it, douses his fingers in it. He rubs together his fingers to warm it to a comfortable temperature, then spreads his thighs open, pressing a finger into himself with a garbled groan. Koutarou watches with rapt attention, settling between Keiji’s legs and reaching out. Keiji uses his free hand to smack Koutarou’s away, shaking his head.

“No touching.”

Koutarou blanches, but experiments by skating his fingers over one of Keiji’s legs. Keiji flutters his lashes as he shifts to angle his finger in better, slowly pushing it in and out and huffing out tiny moans at the feeling. When Keiji finally works himself enough to push in a second finger, Koutarou hazards another attempt. His hand lays flat against Keiji’s calf and when there’s no denial, he wraps his fingers around Keiji’s ankle and lifts the leg over his shoulder.

The motion opens Keiji up a little wider and when he scissors his fingers inside himself his head hits the headboard behind him and a moan sweet as honey enters Koutarou’s ears. He watches Keiji’s movements, mouth watering at the display. He turns his head, but his eyes never leave Keiji. He presses a kiss to Keiji’s ankle, slowly moving his mouth up Keiji’s leg. When he kisses the side of Keiji’s knee he watches as Keiji sinks a third finger in. He seems to wince a bit, shifting around himself and Koutarou soothes him through more soft kisses up his thigh, murmuring encouragement against soft skin.

“You’re so pretty, fucking yourself open for me. Doing so good,” Koutarou provides, setting Keiji’s leg down with careful ease in time with Keiji pulling his fingers out of himself. Keiji whines softly, wiping his hand against the sheets before blinking up to look at Koutarou.

He wordlessly picks up the black ropes and arches his brow. Koutarou picks them up and the confusion that washes over him is so visibly apparent. Keiji can’t help but laugh at the incompetence.

“I don’t... I’ve never done this before,” Koutarou admits.

Keiji reaches out to smooth out the furrow of his brow, leaning in to kiss the line of his jaw. “I’ll help,” he whispers against Koutarou’s ear, tongue darting out to lave over the shell of his ear. His mouth grapples onto the soft skin behind his ear and he sucks down on it, only pulling off when he’s sure a mark is left.

The exchange is quiet, but the way Keiji moves is all Koutarou needs. Keiji shuffles on his knees, pressing his back against Koutarou’s chest. The heat is blistering but Keiji can’t bring himself to hate it. Keiji leans his head back until it rests on Koutarou’s shoulder, his breathing heavy. Keiji guides Koutarou’s hands, showing him how to drape the rope across his body, where to place it, and working his hands to knot it properly. The dark rope presses into his skin, standing out against his light complexion, and Koutarou’s tan hands ghost over his skin with each new wrap, pulling goosebumps out of Keiji’s body. Keiji sighs in delight, moving his arms behind his back, tucking them to grab his own elbows, and Koutarou moves the rope with less confidence until Keiji nods to confirm he’s doing it right. When Koutarou finishes the last knot, Keiji tugs experimentally. The strain is comfortable yet biting; the way Keiji likes. Koutarou’s breath is hot against Keiji’s neck, nosing against Keiji’s jaw.

“Lay down,” Keiji breathes, finally breaking the silence, but not the intimacy.

Koutarou obeys, pulling away from Keiji after a lingering kiss to his cheek. He moves along the bed until he lays out on his back, head resting against Keiji’s silk pillows. He pushes up on his elbows just enough to watch Keiji move until his knees are situated on either side of Koutarou’s hips, hovering over his dick. He flicks his eyes over to the condom sitting on his bedside table and Koutarou follows the gaze. He reaches towards it, ripping the foil packet open with his teeth. He rolls the condom onto his dick then blindly grabs at the bottle of lube Keiji had tossed aside and spreads a generous coating over his cock. He glances up expectantly.

“You’re going to have to help,” Keiji smiles, eyes swirling like a thunderstorm and Koutarou swallows at the sight.

Koutarou mumbles something about how good Keiji looks, while one hand moves to clutch Keiji’s hip and the other wraps around his cock, pressing the tip against Keiji’s opening and guiding him down slowly. Keiji’s lips press together in a tight line as he sinks down, something grumbling in his throat until he’s fully seated on Koutarou’s hips; cock buried inside. There’s silence, except for Keiji's slow breathing as he lets his body relax and get used to the size of Koutarou’s cock. Koutarou places his other hand onto Keiji’s hip as well, tightening his hold and rubbing circles against the jut of his bone.

“Okay,” Keiji says quietly, voice low.

Keiji shifts on his knees and slowly raises his hips then sinks back down, core tightening as he rocks his body against Koutarou’s cock. Koutarou watches with mesmerization, takes in the noises he makes and the effort he uses to move his body.

“Move, Koutarou,” Keiji grounds out, tugging his arms around his restraints.

Koutarou blinks out of his daze, gripping Keiji’s hips so tight he’s sure they’ll bruise. He follows Keiji’s pace, then when Keiji moves to drop back down Koutarou snaps his hips up. Keiji groans around the contact, tossing his head back. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, and the way their moans mix in the air. Koutarou gets lost in Keiji’s face and the way his features twist with pleasure until Koutarou’s hips pick up speed and a soft scream is wrenched out of Keiji’s throat.

“Right, right there,” Keiji hisses, eyes screwing shut.

“You’re gorgeous,” Koutarou coos, hips pressing up again to hit Keiji’s prostate.

“Feels… feels so fucking good, Koutarou.”

Koutarou preens at the praise, fingers digging deeper into Keiji’s skin. Keiji’s moans become broken, as Koutarou’s thrusts become rougher, and tears begin pricking his eyes. He tugs against the ropes around his wrists, whining against the restraint, his hips rolling in time with Koutarou’s. A few tears start to spill over his cheeks, dropping down onto Koutarou’s chest. He hiccups around a moan when Koutarou sits up, one hand spreading over Keiji’s back at the ropes criss-crossing against his spine.

“Don’t stop,” Keiji whines, rocking his body forward.

The full feeling of Koutarou’s cock inside him, dragging against his prostate makes him whisper Koutarou’s name like a plea, a prayer to the God holding him in his arms. He begs for friction with his squirming. Koutarou shuts him up with a harsh kiss, tongues clashing. He moves his fingers to untie the rope binding Keiji’s arms behind his back and as soon as his arms fall Keiji whimpers into Koutarou’s mouth. Koutarou breaks the kiss to look down and bring Keiji’s wrists together in front of his body instead of behind. He spends the least amount of time as he can on wrapping the rope around his arms to bind his wrists together in an unceremonious knot. He lifts Keiji’s arms and slips his head in between the space, Keiji’s tied wrists resting behind Koutarou’s head

Koutarou moves slowly, turning to press Keiji’s back down into the bed. Keiji grapples at Koutarou’s neck and shoulders, nails digging in and scratching for purchase as Koutarou thrusts in again, resuming his brutal pace and hitting just the right spot each time. Keiji’s eyes spill over with glassy tears. The only coherent word he can say is Koutarou’s name between screams. His hips buck up instinctively but Koutarou’s arm clamps him down to the bed, the other resting beside Keiji’s head. Keiji placates his needs by wrapping his legs around Koutarou’s waist instead, pulling his body closer. Koutarou lowers his mouth to kiss away the tears on Keiji’s cheeks, salt playing on his tongue.

When Koutarou rolls his body down in a particularly harsh snap of his hips Keiji chokes on a moan, eyes flying open as his body starts to shiver. “I’m so close. Don’t stop, Kou. Fuck, please,” he mutters unintelligibly.

Koutarou breathes warmly against Keiji’s ear, a constant stream of encouragement. It doesn’t take more than ten extra seconds of Koutarou grinding down into Keiji for Keiji to see stars bursting in his vision. His body is racked with a tremor and he comes with a shout, ivory spilling onto his own stomach. His limbs fall limp, legs slipping off Koutarou’s body and arms only held up by Koutarou’s neck. He shakes as Koutarou fucks into him a few more times, riding him through his orgasm until he’s coming too. His face disappears into Keiji’s shoulder and he groans, sighing heavily at the release.

Koutarou picks his head up after Keiji slips his arms away from his neck. The angle is awkward but Keiji pulls his elbows back until one of his hands swipe through the white on his abdomen. His eyes flash with desire and he brings his sticky fingers to Koutarou’s mouth and Koutarou takes them in, tongue running under the pads of Keiji’s fingers like he did with the sauce during dinner. Keiji smiles at that until Koutarou pulls off and laps at his lips.

“I’m gonna,” he starts, jerking his head towards where they’re still connected and slowly slips out. Keiji whines at the loss, but settles heavily into the sheets of the bed while Koutarou gets up to discard the condom. He points to a door, “bathroom?”

Keiji nods, words still escaping him. Koutarou disappears behind the door and Keiji closes his eyes, muscles aching and head still reeling from how good it felt. Koutarou appears again, and Keiji isn’t sure how much time passed in between but he’s alerted when he feels the coolness of a wet cloth swiping across his forehead. Keiji flutters his eyes open and his smile is lazy as Koutarou sits beside him. He helps Keiji sit up so he can untie the ropes first. It’s much quicker than the tying process and Keiji sighs at the relief, ropes discarded on the floor. Koutarou then moves the wet cloth down the lines of Keiji’s muscles, finishing with cleaning his stomach and lightly running it between his legs. He leaves the cloth in Keiji’s laundry bin then crawls in bed beside him. He’s gentle when he pulls Keiji towards his chest and Keiji hums in delight when strong calloused fingers start massaging at his wrists.

Keiji clears his throat, turning to nestle his head closer to Koutarou’s chest until he can hear his heartbeat. He tangles their legs together and closes his eyes again when Koutarou settles his arm over Keiji’s hip. “That was probably the best sex I’ve ever had,” Keiji mumbles, lazily pressing kisses down to whatever skin he can get to without moving.

Koutarou laughs brightly, brushing Keiji’s hair from his forehead. “Next time will be even better.”

Keiji hums at the promise of _next time_. “Do you want to stay?”

“Mm, I planned to.”

“Do you want to go on another date?”

“Right now?”

Keiji giggles weakly, energy spent. “No, idiot,” he speaks fondly, idly moving his fingers down Koutarou’s abs in mindless patterns. “I mean later. Tomorrow, next week, whenever.”

“Obviously. I didn’t come into this just expecting a fuck, Keiji.”

“Good, because I’d like to date you.”

Koutarou chuckles at Keiji’s ramblings, kissing the top of his head. “Go to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Keiji nods shortly, letting his drowsiness wash over him. He basks in the warmth Koutarou’s body provides, enjoying the weight of Koutarou’s hand on his side. He can relax knowing Koutarou and him were on the same page and can’t stop himself from imagining the exciting future he wants to have with Koutarou. Everything about Koutarou has consumed him in his blinding sunlight and Keiji welcomes it. He slips into a dream with Koutarou by his side unafraid of what’s to come or if he’ll wake up to an empty bed.

Koutarou promises and follows through.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on twitter @matsucockwa  
> talk to me about bokuaka or haikyuu or writing!


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